


In Time Of Grief

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coma, Desperation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Angst, Mid-Canon, Mild Sexual Tension, Multiple Selves, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Psychological Trauma, Sequel, Sharing a Body, Torture, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: With Jack in a coma and Anti set free, the Egos' world becomes more and more fraught with danger; it will take every ounce of strength they have to keep each other alive. (Sequel toIn Time Of Need)Chapt. 5: With the others left helplessly behind in Anti’s clutches, the good doctor despairs. Chase struggles to keep hope for the both of them.





	1. Dominion

For the first time he could remember since he was created, since the day he’d crawled out of the mind of his creator to latch a tight hold on his throat…everything was  _perfect_.

Marvin’s body was more than a comfortable fit. Naturally he was human, so he had his frailties—his scars that itched and burned, his bruises and strained muscles that ached with each movement, his recent wounds that were taking too long to heal—but in his blood there was a presence and a  _power_  that never waned. Anti basked in it, running long, elegant fingers over his face and arms.

Despite the human imperfections, his skin didn’t burn with static and his nails didn’t shear at the hairs he found. He could practically say it  _tickled_ ; it was a fascinatingly satisfying, pleasurable sensation. Breathing deeply as the scent of iron wafted up from his throat, he hesitated for only a moment before pressing his fingers against it.

Even the resulting sparks of pain made him grin, remembering how helplessly Marvin had knelt before him as he slit his throat so tenderly in the mindscape. The cut was metaphysical, only surfacing as torn skin when he deliberately wanted it to. He didn’t have to feel the cut under his fingers to know it was there, and neither did the magician. As he kneaded his fingers into his pulse point, he could sense Marvin’s presence in the back of his mind, heaving weakly, quailing and recoiling deeper into his crevice.

 _That͝’s it,͝ ma͟gic̢ia͢n. R͜etrea͠t.͝ Y͝ou̵ k̡n͞ow th̡a̡t͝ y̧ou͜’re br͝o͜ken_.

It was almost a shame that Marvin had already been weakened so terribly. Breaking him down entirely was something Anti had been greatly looking forward to, but a good portion of his job had already been done for him. The puppet had sacrificed so much for his “brothers”, dragging himself to the depths. By entering a fight when he was already so exhausted, he’d practically flung himself at Anti for his defeat.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have fun with whatever was left of him and the others.

Come to think of it, it had been a while since he had visited the rest of his playthings. Rising from his seat at Jack’s bedside, he sneered faintly, tearing a patronizing hand through the fallen man’s hair before turning on his heel and making his way down the dimly lit hallway toward the kitchen.

The dark magic flowing through Marvin’s veins was potent enough that multitasking was barely necessary. They were still thoroughly enclosed in their spheres of magic, hovering in midair where he’d left them. As soon as he emerged, he was greeted with piercing, panicked cries and muffled thuds as a few of them thrashed, ugly ripples blooming at their points of impact. The excitement that surfaced on his face at the sight was irrepressible. It was like perusing animals at a zoo.

Closest to the hallway, Schneeplestein was curled loosely at the bottom of his sphere. There was hardly any distortion in the magic surrounding him, given that he wasn’t conscious to struggle against it. When Anti drew closer, he could see that there was a bluish undertone to his skin and his muffled wheezes were slow and shaky, barely perceptible. Nostalgic glee filled Anti’s chest at the sight. How many times had he watched him strain to breathe after round after round of torture? How many times had he watched his exhaustion set in, anticipating just the right moment as he started to drift so he could beat him awake for more? It was never boring.

“I ha͠ve  _s̴o͝_  m̴uch more to ̵loo̷k forwąr̶d to̴ wit̛h ̧you̢,” he purred, tapping on the bubble’s surface. “I͠ dǫn͠’t think͡ you҉ kn̴o̵w ̴wha̢t it’s̛ li̢ke̵ t̢o̧ r̶ea͟l̴ly  _suffer_  yet, good͘ ͠ḑoctor. Th̡ere’s͟ a̶ lot̡ ̧I st̵ill ha̶v̨ȩ ̡t̶o te͡ach y̵o͠u!”Another shrill, desperate whine from the corner distracted him and he lowered his head, a knowing snarl tearing at his face. “Of ̴cou͜rse, t̴h̢ere͝ ͘are o̡t̕her little puppets w͠h͜o ͡still hav͡e ͠much mo͞re to̢ ͟l͜ea̡rn ͡t͏ha̵n̡ you ͡do…”

Sweeping the unconscious doctor aside, Anti strolled easily toward the trio clustered closer together, a light giggle escaping him despite his tested patience as he brought sparks to his hand, swirling them in a swift, sharp circular motion. “T͡he̢ o̡nly̧ th͜i̴ng͝ dȩad̨ mȩat i̛s go̴od fo̡r,” he stated, repeating the motion at a steady rhythm, “is e̵nter͝ta͏in̨ment. You’ve ͡l͠a̸s҉ted lo̷nger͠ than I̵ e̢x͏p͠ected!”

All of Robbie’s ferocity had long since been abandoned; where just a few hours ago he would have been roaring and trying to tear through the bubble to get to their captor, now he was nothing but a damaged heap of limbs being violently laundered. He could only whimper and yelp in pained protest as his sphere rotated over itself again and again and again, hurling him against the sides unless he flailed and scrabbled to keep up with its motion.

Over the course of the repetition, he’d mangled himself; Anti was delighted to see stripes of stitches unraveling all over his body, splashes of dark blood staining clothing and skin alike. With each harder impact there were audible crackles and snaps in his frame, weighty chunks of tissue tearing off—one of his feet had already been taken off at the ankle and was tossing haphazardly about, as were a few stray fingers and an ear.

“D͜on͠’t c̷ry,̢ ͘r̢agdo͜l͠l͠!” Anti crooned, bending down to leer at him through the barrier. “If͠ you keep crying, you̴ ̨m̛ight ̧los͏e͠ your e̷yes͝ nex̵t!”

“L-Leave him…alone…”

Chase’s voice was a bare, breathless croak, but Anti heard it nonetheless; all it took was a sidestep and a fluid crouch for them to face each other. Chase was dangling precariously upside down, his face flushed blistering red and streaked with sweat, tears and saliva. Despite what his words could have implied—despite the fact that he had even dared to say them—his eyes were glazed and bloodshot, pupils blown wide with his fear. Tutting gently, Anti leaned close, lowering his voice.

“D̴e̡fi̧a̕n͠c͜e͟ ҉doesn’t sui͘t you͘ ̧boy. L҉ook a̷t͜ ͝whęre it’s b͢ŗơu͟g̸ht ̧y̨o͢u! I̛'̧ve ̛sh̢o͜w͡ņ ̷y͝ou a͝l͡l ag̶ain and a̛ga̵in͝ an͞d a͢gai͠n that you don҉’t ̵h̷ave t̨he p̵o̧w̷ęr͝ t̴o ̢br҉i͝n͠g͘ ̷me d̵ơw̡n! W̴h̶aţ ͘ha̡ve ͝you̷  _ever͢_  ̧b̨een a͘bl͘e t͘o͠ do? You͜ ̨were͜ crea̡ted t̨o ͡be the͏ w͝eakest, the on̷e̡ w͜ho ͜n̡eede̛d sa͠vin͜g, th̷e one͘ ̢w̛ho c̵o̢n͟t͏rib̸ut̕e͘d̢ not͢hing͡. Y҉ǫu—a҉r̷e— _not̶hin͏g_. I wi͝l͞l sh҉aţter͡ what’s l͡ef̡t of̨ yo͡ur h̢app̵y ͝l͠it҉t̢le̵ w҉o̢rl͏d, weakling…and y̴o͡u̢'̷ll̶ j͢ust͜ wat͝ch l͘i̷ke ͠you͏ alw͡ays d̵o.”

Chase’s arms were fixed firmly to his sides by Marvin’s magic; he was helpless to do anything but tremble and close his eyes against the tears slithering into his hair. Shaking his head in disgust at the display, Anti rose to full height, cracking Marvin’s back and fingers with a series of succinct pops.

If he let Chase carry on without any proper reason, it would grate on him. He wanted him  _screaming_.

“Ho҉w͟ about ̴w̨ȩ sta̵rt,” he began with a methodical, deliberate tilt of his head, “w̡ith y̛o̴ur ̨f͢a̵nt̶asy ̨f̛o̵r ҉a̕ ͏s͢on?”

With a blur of motion, Chase was freed from his suspension, landing in a heap on the bottom of his prison. Woozy as he was with the blood rushing from his head, he still registered the words, clambering upright and sobbing out stuttered gasps. “No! No, no, j-jus’ d-do anything t’me! Don’ hurt him, please!”

“T̨his͠ ҉ _is_  what̷ ͢I’m ͞doing to y͞ou,” Anti assured him contentedly as he drew Jameson’s sphere from the darkest corner, waving a hand over it to restore some of the air flow inside. The muzzle-mouth was in the same state as Schneeplestein; it would take a few minutes to wake him. “B͠efor̵e long, y̢o̴u wo͞n͡’t̶ ͏remember ͡w͢hat y̶ơu̸r happ̷in͜ess ͜used ̛to̢ b͏e anymo͡re. I’m go̷i͡ng to ̴crac̵k̵ op͟en t̴h͝a͡t f̶ragile ̡li͡t̡t͢lȩ ͘to͡y chest in̨ y͘o̧ur de̢fect̸iv͜e̶ h͡ead and p͡l̛ay͝ w͝it̢h͡  _a͟ll_  o͞f͡ y̢ouŗ fa̢ntas͝ies. B̨y͘ th̷e tim͟e̴ ̡I’m͡ don̡e͜ wi̷th th̴em, you’re g̡oi͠n͠g ͠t͜o be ͞beg̛ging for  _min͡e͡_.”

“No…no…” Chase’s slurring whispers were barely audible between his broken sobs as he clawed at the magic, staring beyond it to the youngest Ego, who still lay pale-faced and motionless. “Don’…don’ wake up…p-please don’t wake up.”

* * *

_Please…_

_Please don’t wake up…_

_Don’t wake up…_

_D͞҉̢o̡̨n͠'̶͠t̷̨ wake up…_

_Wake up…_

_Wake up…_

_Wake up…_

_Wake up._

Sluggishly, every bone in his body crying out against the disease rooted within him, Jack stirred.


	2. Affliction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of making Chase suffer, Jameson is subjected to a brutal and heartbreaking game.
> 
> A/N: Warning for violence and emotional/psychological trauma.

Air trickled slowly into him through cracked, slightly parted lips. Ever so slowly, it meandered down his chest to his heart and his lungs, creating a dull, throbbing pain even as each breath came more easily. Head aching, Jameson wheezed faintly, sweat breaking out along his hairline as he heavily tried to stir. Somewhere beyond the thick, soupy din in his ears, there were voices calling him.

“T͝hat̷’s i͜t̡…Bac̶k̢ to͢ the̵ land̶ of the li͠vi͟ng̡ for pl̵ay̧ti̡me, l͘it̢ţle ǫne.”

“Stop! Please, no, just—just—!”

“O͝hhh,̸ ̸you’d r͝a̢t̕he͟r̢ I  _s̡u̧ff͜oc̨a̢te_  h͡įm!”

As he was only drifting back to consciousness, Jameson’s eyes had hardly blinked open before he was pressed flat against the surface of his cage by some unseen force, crushing in on his chest. In disoriented horror, he could do nothing but gasp as a strand of magic peeled away from the sphere over his head, lunging into his mouth and down his throat to crawl into his windpipe. It was metaphysical, fluid and solid, clawed tendrils scraping eagerly through his body, seeking out any hint of air and snatching them away from him.

“Jameson!” the voice from beyond his blurred vision howled, terror and anguish and heartache ringing against his ears, chasing his senses, chasing—chasing—

 _Chase_ —

Tears and adrenaline surged to the forefront and all at once he was awake, his heart thundering wildly against the obstruction curling around it with agonizing strength, so intense that he could barely form thought.

_Strangled! Strangled! Strangled!_

His body caught fire, limbs flailing wildly and uselessly as he tossed his head, gagging against what looked like nothing but intangible air. He was drowning in the taste of iron and ice—The more he consumed, the more it consumed him.

Just as grayish mist started swirling into his peripheral vision, threatening to send him back into the darkness, the writhing, burning pressure within him stilled, gradually falling lax. Chase was sobbing somewhere in the distance, muffled, but Antisepticeye’s voice was disturbingly clear and close.

“T̢ha͟t'͝s͞ ͢enou̷g̷h̵.”

Those two simple words set everything in reverse. The claws twisted tight around his windpipe retracted, slithering out of him with such speed that they wrenched his neck. As soon as the magic emptied from him entirely, he clutched at his scorched sides, curling in on himself against the violation. His following gasp was so distressed and heavy that it too stuck in his throat and his stomach lurched, rejecting it, rejecting everything. His second breath became a noiseless bark and then a far more violent heave, blood-tinged bile pouring out of him down his chin and the front of his vest. The mess that splashed across the inside of his prison burned away into nothing on contact, but the sickly scent of it still poisoned the air he had been so desperate for.

“Jem! JJ, are you—?! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Chase wailed. It took several seconds for his words to absorb into Jameson’s sluggish brain, but the longer he lay limp, greedily sucking in the vile oxygen and trying to recover his traumatized bearings, the more he remembered.

In the vicious battle for his mindscape, Marvin had freed him from Anti’s control. Dr. Schneeplestein had told him that he needed bedrest to make a full recovery and he had obeyed, gladly burying himself under the blankets in an attempt to forget. Every moment under Anti’s control had been torture, tearing him apart piece by piece, and he’d been too shaken to speak of it.

Chase had understood. He was close by his side every step of the way, never faltering, never straying, there to make sure that he was safe. For three days they stayed together, despite the fact that Chase had his own injuries. He should have been recovering too; if he had—

Trembling, Jameson lifted his pounding head, clutching at his wet, sticky chest and recoiling clumsily from the older Ego loitering on the other side of his sphere. Marvin simply tilted his head in response, seeming unimpressed. His eyes were dimly glowing, pulsing such deep violet that they bordered hollow black, and his lips were stretched in that keen, malicious smile—Every inch of JJ’s skin chilled at the familiarity and he finally managed to choke something out, the edges of his speech slide frayed and sputtering with his hoarse, sickened dread.

**“You…y-you attacked us…”**

Chase had been reading to him to keep him occupied; he’d been reading for hours and over the course of time, Jameson had noticed his words growing softer and sleepier. Upon peeking out from under his blankets, he’d found the poor vlogger slumped low in his chair, the book sliding away from his limp fingers as he dozed, leaving JJ alone with the silence and his intrusive thoughts of…

He couldn’t hold it against him, he convinced himself fiercely. He  _couldn’t_. Chase had been through just as much as he had—his scars reopening, his surgery, and seeing Jameson under Anti’s control must have been just as traumatic as it was for Jameson living it. Maybe he would try to sleep too, he’d decided firmly, despite how his chest twisted his heart into knots at the thought of what might await him in his subconscious. Chase was here, he was his guardian. He would keep him safe.

He hadn’t.

Marvin—the man they  _thought_  was Marvin, he realized now—had slipped through the door to greet them and Jameson hadn’t thought anything of it. As soon as he had seen those soulless eyes and that very same smile, however, he’d panicked, but he had no voice to cry out and Chase hadn’t startled awake until it was far too late. Jameson had seen the monster’s true form before in the lab, ever so briefly, but staring into the eyes of a friend and seeing nothing but  _him_  was somehow just as terrifying.

“G̴o ̢a̶he͘a̡d͡, ̕pupp͠et,” he urged, in a tone that reeked of predatory pride; he knew full well that Jameson recognized him for what he was. “I’v̡e ̷n̷e͡v͠e̶r ̵heard you say͠ ̵my̸ ҉na̛me.”

 **“Antisepticeye,”**  he rasped timidly, resisting the urge to cringe at the way he bristled because of it. Even if he had, there was no more room at his back to retreat from him. Tightening the twist of his shaking fingers against his chest, he ventured weakly,  **“You’ve taken Marvin the Magnificent as you took me…”**

“An͝d h͘e tr̴ied ̨to fi͠g͞h͝t mȩ ev̶ery sįngle m͟in͢ut̢e̛ of͜ it,” the Glitch informed him delightedly. “Ąhh,̧ but he͡ ̴w̨a̵s al̨r͟e̴aḑy̧ broken ̨d̡own̵ from try̵ing t͢o s̢a̛lvage wh͢at he̡ ̨c͢ould from ͢ _yo̵u͢r_  mind. Crąwlin͠g͡ out̡ ̢o͟f̡ y̛our head a̵nd i͜nto ̨h͝is w̶as̨ ch͢il͘d̡’s p͡lay! B͠ut̛ I̡ h̛avęn't gotten  _e̷nou͡gh_  of̴ ̡i̴t ju̴s̡t̢ yet.”

With a sharp turn of his hand, he spun Jameson out into the open, letting him rotate in stomach-churning circles for several seconds until he came to a leisurely stop in front of Chase. Jameson’s heart leapt in hope and fear at the sight of him and despite how his head reeled at the motion, he struggled onto his knees, reaching out.

 **“Chase? Chase, please, look at me! Are you alright?!”** Chase’s head was buried in his hands as he rocked back and forth, weeping; he wasn’t looking up to read his slides and Jameson slapped his palms against the magic in frustration, hissing as his skin tingled and burned. **“Cha—!”**

“No nee̴d to ͡kee͝p ̷up t͟he ͝charade,” Anti growled, moving to stand alongside him, fingers drifting over the bubble. “Wȩ jus͡t estab̨lis̛he̴d ̧tha̡t I'͏vȩ bęen ̵ins̡id̕e ̷you, pu̶ppe͘t͢.͠ I know how ̧y͜o҉u͞ thi̢n̛ķ o͘f h͘i̵m—y͝o͢ur poor, ̴da͡m͞aged  _da_. I͠t’s be͟e̡n ̡so l͢ong s̨inc̷e y͠ou͝’ve͜ seen ̢h͜i͢m̴ smilę, i̢t’s been͏ s̢o̵ ļo͢ng si̢n̢ce y̢ou got to b̴e ͞wiţh̢ him ̶w̧i͝tho̶ut  _f̨ear_. Y̨o͢u͡ f̷eel so ̨so͜rry͠ ͝for him. You ͘alway͡s wonde̴r̢ how y̢o͘u could ͞ever͡ make̡ h͠i͡m ha̡p̶py͜! Wh̵o can b͘la͝me ̢you̶ for trying? ͠He has y̵ou ͢co͡n̴v͘i͝nc͡ed th͜at y̵ou’re his  _sp̛e̢cial_ _li͜tt̵le͠ boy͠_. You͜ ͡hav͝e so m̡u̡ch  _fu͟n_  tǫget̵h̵er p̧lay̢i͞n̶g͝ ̧y͘our̨ ͠ga̶mes̨, pe͞r͘fo͡rming ͜you͢r t͠ric͘ks…Suc̨h̶ prȩc̢io͡us b̷ondi͢n͞g f͜or̶ fatḩe̷r a̡nd͞ son. W͡hy ͡don͘’t ͘I give ̨you an͝ot͝h͢er ̶game to̢ p͡l̵ay?”

Chase did lift his head then, horror dawning on his colorless, tear-streaked face as the last thing Jameson saw before the world became a frightening blur. The sphere of magic against his hands was suddenly suctioning to him like another layer of clothing, eating into his exposed skin as he was flung sideways at breakneck speed into the containment field that held Robbie nearby. Both JJ and the zombie cried out at the impact as they somersaulted, but Anti didn’t let them recover, latching onto Robbie with his free hand and slingshotting him back for another collision.

Again and again he beat them together like chalkboard erasers until the next impact earned him a sickening crunch and a wanton moan from Robbie as the stitches holding his throat together split. His head rolled, disturbingly loose on his neck as he whimpered, but his hands were too mangled to lift and cradle it. Giggling at the sight, Anti released him entirely, the magic around him dissolving away to let him crumble to the ground, a mere pile of tangled, shuddering limbs.

“No—N-No—” Chase gasped, pressing his hands over his mouth.

“T͏h̴at’s̵ t͘he e̶nd of͢ ͏h̶iş e͜n̴ter͠tainment,” the Glitch commented with a broad grin. “I'͏m͢ ̛sųr͝ę ̴t̴he good do͞ct͢o͝r͞ ͝i̛n t͝h҉e c͡or̡ne͜r c͝o̧uld f͜i̛x ͘h̶im, but he̶'̢s͠ ̴s̡t҉i̷l̡l̨ s͜ound a̷s̨leep—and ͜I͜’m n̢o̧t̨ fin̷is͜hed with h͏i̴s othȩr pat͡ie͞nt ̨y̧et̛.”

Popcorn and plaster rained down from the ceiling as Jameson crashed into it, a lightning strike of pain electrifying his ribs. He had no chance to recapture his breath before he was torn down and thrown into the distance, hurtling against the far wall of the living room. The thunderous blow reverberated through him, stunning, shattering. He saw nothing but stars as Anti hurled him downward and had no warning before his skull smacked the edge of the coffee table.

“Yo̸u͟r da has ͠a͠l͝wa͞y̢s̴ trie͘d ͝t̶o protect yo͢u!”Anti sneered over Chase’s panicked screams, arching his fingers to bring the reeling gentleman back up. Again he smacked against the edge, receiving a spurt of blood for his trouble. “He wants̵ ͢t҉o͢ p̢rot̨e͠ct ̨yơu  _so ̡b̴a͢d̴ly_. Let’s incorporate ̴that ͘in̶to o̧u͠r ̨g̷ąme!”

As Anti brought him down on the table a third time, Jameson’s holler of agony was so short and shrill that his speech slide couldn’t even register it, but the fourth blow didn’t follow right away. Instead Anti dragged him upright, examining the damage to his face with satisfaction. Jameson’s breath hitched thickly—once, twice, three times, and then he coughed convulsively, blood and tears spilling in mingling rivulets down his face.

“You’r̡e͏ ̢in a̶ lo̷t of͜ ҉pa͢in, J̷a҉m͜ęson Ja͢ck͜son,” Anti stated the obvious, his voice deceivingly soft. “Bu̡t if͘ y̴ou̶ a̷nd ͟yo͢ur̴ dadd͠y ̡p̡lay nicely, I mig̕h͜t ͝w̨a͘it to ͢k͢il͢l you. Y̶o͠u’ll get a͢ ͜m̷om͝en͢t to b͠r̶e̢athe, and̴ Çh͟ase ͝B̢ro͘dy will get̨ ͠a chance̢ ̢to̵ ̴p͡r͟o͠t̡ect yo̢u̵. This is a͠ gam͜e of t͟a̡g. R͜ight̵ n̡ow it̨’s ̵you̷r turn, but i̢t do̷esn̵’t h̷av͢e ͜to ̕be. All y̵ou͠ ha̴v͞e ͜t̢o ͢s̴a̛y is ‘You̷’re͠ it,’ and I’l̴l m̡ak̴e Cha͢sę s͠uf͠f̵er instead ̶of you.” With a gentle flick, Anti pressed the gentleman’s limp, shivering body against the wall, readying him. “W̷e both k̢n̷ow i͘t’s w̸hat ̕he wan͠t̵s.”

“Do it!”

Past bruising, swollen eyelids and strands of hair matted together with blood, Jameson looked dazedly to Chase, who was clinging imploringly to the side of his prison.  **“Da…”**  he slurred out, his speech slide breaking as consciousness wavered.

“Do it, Jem, please,  _please_  do it…” he begged wretchedly, the blue in his eyes heartbreakingly bright with tears as he tried to force a trembling smile. “I can do it for you…I’ve t-taken worse, let me take it!”

“No…”

That voice—hoarse, broken, but without fear—came from the hallway. As Anti turned, Jameson was rotated with him in a violent twist, forcing a soundless whine out of him that died away as soon as he saw him. With his bare, staggering feet, oversized hospital gown and scruffy, ashen skin, he looked just as beaten down as his Egos, but his eyes were wild, filled with darkness and anger.

Anti stumbled back, his hold on Jameson loosening enough that his containment field returned to its proper shape and allowed him to slump down within it. Static storming erratically around his head and his shoulders, the Glitch quivered in disbelieving rage, spitting out, “ _W̸h̸at҉̨?!_ ”

Jack’s mouth twisted in a bitter, defiant half-smile. “Let  _me_  take it,” he hissed.


	3. Extrication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase serves as witness to the chaos and destruction as Anti and Jack face each other again for the first time.

Jack. Jack stood in the hallway with sheer fire in his eyes, shoulders squared—ready for a fight.

Chase’s heart flung itself into his throat, stalling his breath, chilling his skin, dropping his jaw. As soon as his mouth opened, his voice found traction.

“ _Jack!_ ” he screamed, tears springing to his eyes as he threw himself against the barrier.

Jack lunged in the same moment, right arm locking around Anti’s throat to heave him off his feet. Screeching in rage and what could have even been alarm, the Glitch swung his legs back, slipping out from under his captor and swinging viciously with a fist scorched by black magic.

“No!”

Narrowly Jack managed to duck it, sending the other’s fist into the nearest side of the wall with a thunderous crash and then diving to snatch him around the legs before he could reel back again, pulling his stolen body out from under him. As they somersaulted across the kitchen, Anti’s savage curses and Jack’s fearless laughter blended into a cacophony of noise joined by the chilling warble of the magic being flung left and right and Robbie’s startled yelps from the floor nearby.

“Jack, hold on!” Chase howled again, pommeling the inside of his sphere as desperation and terror for his friend took hold. How could Jack be awake now? How could he—He wasn’t in any condition to fight on his own!  _I have to help, I have to help him, I have to save him! I gotta get out!_  As another wave of panic surged up in his chest, he cast a wild glance to Jameson, who had fallen to the bottom of his sphere as soon as Anti released him. He still hadn’t moved, despite the commotion. Was he conscious to see it? Chase had to help  _both_ of them, but how could he when he was trapped in here?!

Ever so briefly Anti was able to tear Jack off of him, flinging him down and landing a vicious punch to his face, earning a dark, sticky spurt of blood; he couldn’t turn his head fast enough. “Ho̸w͢ ̸a҉re you ͝h̡eŗe?!” Anti bellowed. “You’re͠ n̴o̡t ̨t̨akinģ thi҉s̡ ͘f͘r̨om me ͜ _ag͢a̸i҉n̛!_ ”

“Oh, I wouldn’t  _dream_  of interfering, Glitch,” Jack sneered, smearing blood across his chin with the back of his hand. With a wordless screech, Anti summoned another spell that crackled and hissed across his skin like lightning. Just before the magic came down in a critical wave, Jack sprang up and to his right, seizing a fistful of his opponent’s long hair in one hand and smashing his open hand into his face with the other. Once he had that hand on his skin, he didn’t let go, digging his nails in with enough force to draw blood and grinning fiercely at the pain it elicited. It was as if Jack’s very touch was  _burning_  him—

Dizzied by the speed of what he was seeing, Chase craned his neck as Anti thrashed and flailed like a feral cat, trying to dislodge Jack’s hands so he could see. His next blast of magic swung wide, ricocheting away from them in a powerful pulse that Chase had no time to brace for. As soon as it struck him, the sphere surrounding him was blown away and he was falling. His body hit the linoleum with a jarring smack and the world went white as some of the stitches in his head tore.

When his vision cleared, the sharp spike of agony in his skull brought him to with a wave of dizziness as he rolled over, dragging himself underneath the kitchen table for cover as Anti’s magic shattered the backdoor, a shrill hail of glass raining down in Chase’s wake. Staggeringly he crawled to the closest gap, hunkering down and staring with blurry, wide eyes out at the chaos.

“I h-have to help,” he gasped, pushing the nearest dining room chair forward and clambering out after it, hands and knees skidding.

Using the edge of the table to haul himself upright, he clutched tightly at his throbbing, bleeding head, heaving a breath before summoning the strength, wrestling the chair into his arms and hurling it in Anti’s direction. It was only when it was in the air that he realized his aim was off.

“J—Jack, look out!”

By some miracle Jack was able to twist; the chair just clipped his shoulder before breaking against the wall. The way it was angled, it should have crashed into his head, but Chase’s vision was doubling; it looked as if it passed right through him and all the while, he clung to Anti like he’d magnetized to him. Hissing and blinking hard, Chase glanced around for anything else he could throw. Only when he was forced to dodge another stray flash of light did he realize what he could do.

“Jameson!” he hollered, rushing to the youngest Ego’s prison. “Jem! Jem, I’m here—!”

Stirring sluggishly, Jameson blinked up at him with pained, cloudy eyes, his speech slide shaking as he curled into himself.  **“Da…how did you…?”**

“Anti’s blasts of magic are going haywire; I just have to shift you into the right place at the right time and you’ll—you’ll get free too!” he panted, flinging his arms around the sphere and ignoring the burn against his skin as he spun toward the fight. “Just have to…time it right…”

“You c̢a͝n'̨t rįd ̴him o҉f͡ me!” Anti’s words grew distorted as Jack’s hand dragged down his face, tearing open welts in his cheeks. “Yo͘u’re ̡ _n̛ev̷er͜_  ge͏tting̷ hi̧m ̴b̧ack̨!”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame, Defect? Would you risk manifesting your real form to hurt me?!” Jack barked.

“ _A҉͏h͢hh͢h͟h̶͡!_ ”

“Jack, get him this way!” Chase hollered, but his creator barely heard him as he wrenched Anti’s head back and forth, straining against him. Gritting his teeth, Chase dug his fingers painfully into the slippery surface of the sphere, squinting hard against the flashing lights as he dragged JJ sideways. “C’mon, c’mon, we just need one—wh- _ahh!_ ”

Everything happened in less than a second—Chase’s heel catching on one of Robbie’s misplaced body parts, his arms twisting as he fell, sending Jameson’s sphere wildly askew to crash into Schneep’s. Chase barely managed to roll into the fall and sit back up before the dark magic flurried over his head and sent the doctor tumbling to the floor.

“Schneep!” Struggling back onto shaky feet, Chase gasped, “Schneep—JJ, he’s—”

 **“Go!”**  Jameson urged, pushing up on his elbows.  **“Go to him, Da, and get out of here!”**

The vlogger’s frame froze halfway through his tense to spring, reeling back in disbelief. “What?”

 **“Go on,”**  the younger Ego repeated, features tight with pain.  **“Run, run far away! You have to take him!”**

“No—No, no, no, Jem, I’m not  _leaving_  you!” he cried out, yelping and shielding his head as the overhead light was torn from the ceiling, swinging wildly by cords. “All three of us are—”

Trembling with silent sobs, Jameson shook his head, droplets of blood flinging from his face.  **“Please go, please! You and he are the only ones free; you’re our best sliver of a chance! You can make a dash for it, Da, you have to find someone!”**

“Jameson—!”

 **“Save the doctor—now, while you can!”**  Jameson spat, slamming his fist against the barrier.  **“Bring help back to us! _RUN!_ ”**

In horror and grief Chase pressed his face into shaking hands for just a moment before whirling aside. As he bolted, he could see Anti in his hazy peripheral vision, slamming Jack against the tile, snatching up one of the broken legs of the chair and bringing it down hard. Chase cast it out of his mind as soon as he registered it, sliding his arms under the doctor’s limp frame and heaving him up against his shoulder as he skidded toward the front door.

He ran, hot tears and sweat burning his eyes and smearing the colors of the sky and the rocks together. Every pound of his feet shook him to his core, breaking his heart more and more the farther he went. Schneep’s arms and legs were thrown into Chase’s sides over and over, the jarring sensation eventually melding into the adrenaline-fueled frenzy as he pinned his sights on the city.

When his shoe finally hit a snag, he and his burden were flung violently to the ground. The impact broke through his mindless center, shattered his strength. All of the pain made itself known in an excruciating flood; his lungs were in stitches, his legs felt like broken toothpicks and his  _head_ —his head felt like it was going to explode. Shuddering exhaustedly, he allowed himself to go fully limp, eyes fluttering closed.

An undetermined amount of time later, he felt a familiar hand grope lethargically at his back. “Chase…what’s…? Wh-Where are we?” Schneep croaked, hoarse, ragged coughs breaking his words until they were almost unintelligible.

Chase couldn’t find it in himself to answer immediately. Instead he directed his will toward getting back up. A decent layer of his forearms was skinned away as he levered himself onto hands and knees, pinning his eyes on the small puddle of blood left behind on the rocks from his head. Biting back a moan, he clumsily swept at the rocks, doing his best to cover it.

“Here,” he hissed groggily. “Lemme help you up…”

How long did it take him to make it to his feet? Too long. It took even longer to get the doctor’s arm around his neck and draw him up to lean on him; Schneep was too woozy to walk on his own.

“Marvin…” he rasped, rattled breaths hitching. “Marvin attacked us…Jackie…and then I—I don’t remember anything…”

“It was Anti,” Chase murmured thickly. “He t-took Marv. He’s got control of his magic. He still has Jackie, Robbie…J-Jem. But Schneep, you—you weren’t conscious to see—Jack.”

At that Schneep stopped up short, swaying dangerously against Chase’s hold. When Chase glanced sideways at him, he found that all the color was draining from the older Ego’s face. “What?” he breathed, his voice breaking.

That one syllable was enough to bring Chase’s tears back to his eyes as he nodded confirmation. “ _Jack_ ,” he repeated tremulously. “He’s awake, Schneep. He…he bought me enough time to get to you.” There he fell quiet, allowing Schneep a second or two to process the words—it wasn’t nearly enough time—and then he retightened his grip on him. “S-So we need to get somewhere safe. Gotta regroup so we can make it back and rescue them.”

Schneep was silent as a shadow for the rest of their journey into the city, apart from labored wheezes that he tried to suppress. Every time Chase heard one past the ringing in his ears, he squeezed his nearest fingers, trying to be reassuring. No matter how many times he asked if he needed to stop, however, Schneep shook his head, pulling on him to move forward.

His strength didn’t last forever. By the time they reached one of the streets where they could hail a cab, he was practically hanging from the arm that was wrapped around Chase’s neck, barely holding any of his own weight. For the very first time, Chase found himself attributing the tiniest sliver of gratitude to the nine months Schneep was missing; if his friend hadn’t become so underweight in that span of time, it would’ve been completely impossible for Chase to carry him this far.

The cab driver blessedly pulled the vehicle up to the nearest curb; it only took a few more steps for the two of them to tumble inside. “Whoa…you two get in a fight at the pub?” he questioned in disbelief.

“Carter Lane…please,” Chase whispered, falling low in the seat and leaning his heavy head against Schneep’s bony shoulder. There he stayed for the entirety of the drive; he couldn’t find it in himself to even react when the doctor’s weak coughing shook the both of them. When the driver informed them that they had arrived, Chase legitimately could have wept in relief when he pried aching eyes open and saw the house before them. It looked so welcoming.

Stacy’s reaction when she opened the door to them was a little less so; as soon as she saw them, she flinched back, pressing her hands against her mouth. “What on earth—?”

“Are the kids home?” Chase asked first.

“Wh—What? No, they’re at school!” Stacy stammered uncertainly, eyes panning over his battered frame and then flicking to Schneep ever so briefly before returning. “Chase…Why do you look so  _awful?_ Actually, no! No, don’t tell me. But shouldn’t you be recovering from your surgery right now? It’s only been a few days!”

“Who is it, hon?” a deeper voice called from somewhere within, sending Chase’s heart to the pit of his stomach.

“It’s Chase and one of his—friends,” Stacy managed uncertainly, glancing over her shoulder and tucking her hair behind her ear as her boyfriend emerged from the backroom to stand beside her. He cut an intimidating figure, though Chase wasn’t in any shape to cower before him. For the first—and only—time in his life, he couldn’t care; he practically welcomed the sight of him.

“This is your ex?” Tom huffed doubtfully.

“He doesn’t usually look like this,” Stacy assured him, a note of uncharacteristic worry catching in her tone.

“Well, he looks like he needs medical attention!” Gesturing to Schneep as he slumped against the doorframe for balance, Tom revised warily, “You  _both_  do.”

“Yeah…” Chase admitted after a moment of thought, tilting his head back with a weak, vaguely delirious smile. “Yeah, that’d be nice…”


	4. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the course of his fight with Jack, Anti stumbles. Just as quickly, he scrambles to claw his way back up -- through unconventional means.

Anti could feel every ounce of magic, every drop of blood in Marvin’s body scorching with his fury as he clashed with his creator. For the first time in his life, he found that, fragile, mortal, physical as he was, he was  _breathless_. His mind was churning and thrumming like an overworked machine, consumed with sparks of shock and enraged questions.

_How̵ ҉i̢s ̢he̴ h͝ere? H̴ow̴ ̵has ͞h͢e̵ w͡ok͘e̕n s͟o̴ q̧u̸ickly?͢! U̶g̨h,̴ ̸iţ ͘do͜e͜sn҉'t̶ ̴matte̷r! I’l̨l҉ ͘ru̵n̶ him҉ ̴into҉ t̨he g̷ro̴und̵!_

For a man who had been in a coma for over a year, Jack was astonishingly strong and agile, ducking the majority of Anti’s swings and shaking off the blows he did land with disturbing ease, grinning all the while, laughing them off. It only fueled the inferno boiling in Anti’s chest, giving him strength, speed, resolve.

He would  _put him down_. He would break his legs, split his skull, slit his throat again to feel the warm, caustic blood oozing between his fingers—he would do whatever it took to put him down farther than he ever had before. By the end of this fight, Jack wouldn’t wake up again.

His concentration was momentarily broken as Jack shot a quick right hook to his jaw, forcing him back. The spell he’d cast went astray like the others, burning a layer of the nearby wall to ash as he stumbled to recover, senses whiplashing. Taking advantage, Jack struck him again with the same hand, the impact searing his cheek with unseen electricity. It was foreign, familiar—he couldn’t quite place it but he knew it so well.

Anti’s nerves tingled, the fresh welts on his face stinging against the rush of air as he recovered and sprang. Jack couldn’t recoil fast enough before the Glitch seized his arm and heaving it the wrong way with a vicious, cracking twist. Even now, his dog-like yelp of pain transformed into strained laughter! Snarling, Anti wrenched him skyward, heaving him head over heels onto the floor with a thunderous crash.

All of Jack’s breath left him in a wheezing gasp. Anti seized his chance, as well as one of the broken legs of the chair Chase had thrown; pinning Jack down by the throat, he brought the debris down hard. Ever so distantly he heard the front door slam but he couldn’t turn to look. He was laser-focused, absorbed in the sounds the chair leg made as it connected with Jack’s head a second time.

The dark cherry wood was wet with blood when he tossed it aside and Jack’s bruised, swelling eyes were creased fiercely in pain as blood poured from the gash in his forehead. Frankly it was a miracle that he wasn’t out cold already. Anti could fix that, he mused bitterly as he dragged Jack upright, lifting him high enough that only his toes could brush the tile. His throat was disgustingly sweaty under Anti’s hands, but he felt a twinge of grim satisfaction regardless at how wide his eyes grew, how his pulse quickened and his breathing thinned.

“Anti…you…” he choked out, pedaling his feet as violently as he could as he clutched at Anti’s wrists. His fingers were icy.

“E҉v̛ery͡ minut̡e ̵of̢ e̷very d͠ay, I’ve͝ ͡t͘ort͠ur̡ed you̧ in your nigh̛t͢m̧ar͞es,” Anti reminded him as he squeezed his coarse, clammy skin. “Y͡o̢u̧’ve seen̶ y͢ou̧r fam̶i͏ly killed ̵a t̛housan̷d͢ ti҉mes͢ over…You̶'҉v̧ȩ se̡en ̴you͢r̵ ͢cr̸e̕at̵io͜ns slauģht͡ered̢…You’ve ͜se͠en ͞your p̛r̴e͜c̶ious ̶fo҉ll̷o̡w̴ęrs t͢u͜rn on͠ ̨eac͏h҉ o͜ther a̛nd create chao̴s a̶n͠d ̨ruin. You t҉h͘o͘u͠ght͠ I̡ was ̨don҉e͠ with ̷you? Yo͜u̴ tho̢ug̨h͜t ̛I w̶as͞ ͟s͠a̛tis̷f̢ied̢ with y҉ou ̴be̛ing a  _byst͠a̶n͞d͡er?_  T͘his ҉t͠im̴e, ͘J̶ack,͜ everything ͡w̡įl̷l ̨b̴e ̵b̛y ̷ _your_  h̛a̶nd. I͢t͜’l͢l be ͠al̨l y̡o̷u͜r̛ fa̢u̡lţ. Le̢t’s se̛e if yo̶u̡ can̢ find͡ ͡the͠ ̵s͜tr̡eng͟t͢h҉ to ͘wake up f͟r̴o̷m th͢at̢.”

Jack’s subdued struggle was weakening, waning; Anti relished every moment of it as he watched the spark fade out of Jack’s eyes, glazing them, forcing them closed little by little until his hands finally slid away from Anti’s and he shuddered, falling limp inch by inch. There he hung. If it didn’t bear the risk of killing him, Anti would have let him dangle there for much longer, but he had damaged him enough in the fight as it was. There was no need to risk damaging his brain. Muttering a foul curse, he lowered him and offered a hearty shove, watching impassively as he crumpled to the floor.

As the body hit the floor, someone else was left standing, and Anti froze, all of his grim satisfaction blown away in a cold wind.

“W̸h̸at҉̨?!” It was the second time today that he had been taken by surprise; he hated that anything could wring that word out of his mouth, but there was no other phrase fitting for his incredulous shock.

“Ohh, diisapoiintiing…II was hopiing for a proper  _gasp_  of alarm,” Deathwiish tutted lightly, openly grinning as she looked him up and down. When Anti didn’t respond, she shifted her weight onto one hip, chuckling. “But you  _really_  should look iin a miirror riight now; you really don’t notiice how pretty the magiiciian’s mouth iis untiil iit’s hanging open liike that! Diid II really surpriise you? Diid you really beliieve that Jack had made a miiraculous recovery to fiight you?”

“Y҉̶ǫ̶͜u…” Anti gasped, a fresh swell of anger roaring in his chest with such power that he could feel static curling around his vital organs. “Y̵ou̡ ͠çr̢awled͡ ͢int̴o ͠J͡ack҉'҉s͞ bod̴y… _i̸n̵fec̵ted ͠_ h͠im…and͏ us͠eḑ ͝h̶i͞m to͢  _ţest҉ ͠me!_ ”

The crack of his knuckles across her cheekbone was nowhere near satisfying, even when she doubled over from the blow. Crossing the distance in one spasming, glitching step, he dug his hand into her hair and heaved with such force that a decent chunk of it tore, fluttering to the floor around them as he brought her eye to eye.

“D͡o yo͠u̶ ̷ _r͟e̡ali͢ze_  ̸wh͞a̷t you have͞ ͝d̷ơne,  _you̡ par̵a̷s̛i̷t̵e?!_ ” he screeched, twitching and vibrating as the aftershocks of the situation struck one by one. “Y͘͢o̧͢u͞ ma̶̷̢de̢͜ ҉me͝  _d͜a͟͜͡mag̢҉̨e͟_  ͝h͟i͜͡m! Y҉ou w̵a͢ste̴d͡ m̷y̶ ̡t̛im̧e ̴̡and ex͜p̴̨e͡n͠d̕͠e̵͠d my͡ ̧p̶̴ow̧er f̢͡or ̨̛a w̨͟͝o͞r̡̡th͝͡l̷̡̕ȩss̨͜ ͢͠g͞a͢m̵͘e a̧n̢͡d ͞y̢̢o̵̢͢ų’ve̶̛͘ ̴co͞şt̢͟ ͟me ̕ _t̨̧w̷o̵ ͢o͜f ̧m͡y̧̧ pup̷҉p͡ȩ͘ts!_  T̸̷͝h̵͠e ̡do͟ct̨or͟҉ a҉n̨͢d͘͘͞ ̴͡t̕h̛e v̴͠log̷͞g̡e͠r̴͘͡ are ͟͠g͘͞͡on͡e ̢bec͠au̵se ͟of͞ ͠you! D͢o͞ you ̨re̵ali̷ze҉ w͝hat I̵ co͡ul̷d͝ do ͡to ͢y͘ơu?!”

“Tell me,” she spat, her breath heavy against his face as she guiltlessly stared back at him. “Tell me what you’ll do.”

The moment held. Anti’s fingertips tightened against her scalp, no doubt going to bruise, as his gaze became scathing. When they were nose to nose like this, it was easy to see just how much her pupils had dilated, blacking out the keen silver irises. This was her plan from the start, Anti realized, gritting his teeth. This was what she wanted from him—his rage, his dominance, his hands tearing at her with force, causing that pain she craved so dearly. What was she if not a masochist?

What better pain to give a masochist than deprivation of it? He had played her game long enough; he didn’t intend to give in to any more of her whims. In fact…

With the greatest of restraint he forced his anger into the pit of his stomach, relaxing his rigid, trembling frame muscle by muscle. His hand loosened against her scalp and when she blinked in surprise, he contorted his lips in a smile that could almost be called serene.

“Y͡ou n͝e͢ve̡r͞ ͟ _n̢eęd͝e̵d̛_  t͢o ̛t͏es͠t me̢ t̴o ge͜t̡ ̨m̧y at͜t͡e̷nt͢i̡o͜n, ̧m̢opp͏et̨,” he informed her mildly, drawing his fingers down her hairline to her face, thumbing over her temple, her bruising cheek, and the edge of her chin before cupping it.

With the faintest motion of his free hand, the radio in the corner of the kitchen counter came to life, pouring soft strains of the piano into the room. Deathwiish seemed startled by the gesture, but his hand under her chin wouldn’t allow her to turn. He set it moving again soon enough, fingers gliding down the side of her neck and curling lightly under the edge of her collar, stretching it to expose her left shoulder. He could  _feel_  her nerves tingling with increasing wariness under his as he deftly massaged the silvery gray skin, from the crest to the point, before shifting to trace the curve of her shoulder blade.

“Hąve y̶o͡u҉ ̴felt ͜needy͜, ̨mo͠ppe̵t̴? W̴ere yo͡u fe̢eli̴ng ͘ab͘andon͡ed?͡ I'̶ve b̡een cơm̴mitt̛i͡n̶g so much t̶im̧e to ̧t͠h͟e͞ ̛ơt҉he͘r̡s͠…” he purred as his opposite hand palmed her ribs, adjusting to their quickening rise and fall. It was easy to find the sliver of bare skin near her hip where the hem of her shirt had lifted when he tugged on it; he offered it only the faintest brush before smoothing the fabric down, petting it along the seam. Inclining, weighing his upper body into hers, he reveled in how she stiffened, ghosting wet, warm lips over her jaw and lowering his voice to a silky hiss deep in his throat. “Yo͟u̧ ju͝st͡ ̴wanted t̛o͠ rem̴i͜nd ̴me—”

“Enough!” she snapped in frustration, prying his hand away from her side and twisting sideways to untangle the other from her back. As soon as she freed it, he clamped it around her wrist, his smile taking on a predatory edge. It was only when her veins began blackening under his hand, threatening to poison him, that he conceded, sliding his grip away. As soon as she was free, she cast him one more cold glower before striding to the door. She didn’t bother with a goodbye.

It was always so gratifying to tear a puppet’s victory away, Anti mused, wiping his hands on Marvin’s jeans to rid them of her oils. That said, as soon as he happened to glance down and rediscover Jack’s comatose form sprawled haphazardly on the floor, his heated resentment surged yet again. How could he possibly have  _fallen_  for her ruse? If only one good thing had come from it, it was a reminder that he couldn’t afford to be sloppy.

The escape of two puppets meant that he would have fewer test subjects in his next phase, he realized, baring his teeth and swinging the toe of Marvin’s boot into the stray zombie head rolling nearby. Robbie let out a piercing squawk of alarm and pain as it collided, his disconnected body shuddering at the aftershock. Shaking his head in disgust, Anti looked to the sphere that held Jameson. The little puppet had finally passed out from his injuries.

Once Anti consulted Marvin’s tomes, he expected it wouldn’t take much to patch up the broken pieces of both Jameson  _and_  Robbie—the more excruciating the method, the better. After that, they would begin again.

“Going ̡ar̨ou͜nd o҉ve͡r a͡ņd ove҉r̷…”

It didn’t matter what he wanted—correction, it didn’t matter  _when_  he wanted it. He had to be in control. He had to be ready for the long run; he’d wring everything he could out of their broken bodies until he was. He would ravage them for it, no matter how many rounds it took.

In the end, it would be more than worth it. 


	5. Contagion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the others left helplessly behind in Anti’s clutches, the good doctor despairs. Chase struggles to keep hope for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Oof, I'm almost ashamed to post this, given that it's been a whole _month_ since the last update but here it is anyway. Sorry for the huge delay ;_;~~

_This is necessary. This is…She doesn’t mind us being here. She_ wants _to help us_.

No matter how many times Chase told himself that, he was honestly surprised that Stacy had let him and Schneep beyond the front porch as he watched her scramble to gather her things so she could drive them to the hospital. Naturally her first suggestion had been to call for an ambulance to get them there faster, but Schneep had been quick to shoot that down.

“No! No,” he choked out as he pressed a hand against his chest, wavering. Chase had latched onto his elbow as he dangerously swayed, but the doctor had shaken his head, shrugging away. “We cannot take risk. There are p—people we cannot afford to see, who cannot afford to see us. I know a way—”

His hoarse voice finally cracked and gave way to a barking cough, followed by an awful wheezing that made it sound like his throat was caving in. He didn’t bother to pull away when Chase latched onto him then and once his fit had subsided in its intensity Stacy had gingerly suggested they come inside and sit.

They were on the couch to the left side of the living room now, Schneep slumped against the armrest and Chase curled up close to his side. After everything that had happened, he didn’t want to stray too far. Every so often he glanced over at him, assessing. Even though he’d been conscious and breathing for a while now, he didn’t look good at all.

Shouldn’t he be demanding to know more about Jack, Anti, the fight? Jack was his everything,  _their_  everything. He hadn’t asked a single question about what had happened to Jack since Chase had told him he was awake. Why was he being so quiet about it?

Chase couldn’t expect so much of him, he reminded himself numbly. Right now, Schneep was just focused on struggling to breathe; that was all he should be focused on—and from the violent crashing he had heard during their frenzied escape, he should be grateful that Schneep  _wasn’t_  asking how it had all turned out. Even he didn’t know.

Not for the first time, Jameson’s pained, terrified eyes blinked open in his mind, staring into him—staring  _through_  him. The deep ache in Chase’s head and chest flared hotly, dizzying him at the thought of what he might be enduring right now if Jack hadn’t won that fight.

 _I…I left him there. I left him with Anti. If I had been faster, I could’ve_ …

“So you’re the infamous Chase, huh?” Tom broke through his agonizing, hovering over them. “Heard a lot about you. And who’s this?”

Wordlessly Chase tilted his head back, blinking heavily up at him. Something in his face must have told Tom that he wasn’t in the mood for introductions, so he glanced sideways and cleared his throat, changing the subject with a bit more authority.

“You know I have to ask: what exactly is it that you’re getting us involved in? Are you in trouble with the law? Drugs? Gambling?  _Something_  illegal? Who are these people you’re trying to avoid seeing?” he questioned, waving an expansive hand. “I just want to make sure you’re not dragging Stacy and I into anything you could be getting out of yourself.”

At that Schneep shifted suddenly, pushing the startled Chase sideways with his forward motion as he sat up, his glazed eyes cold.

“If is something we can get out of ourselves, do you think in your tiny brain that we would c-come to you?” he growled raspingly. “We come because we need  _help_ , not idiotic questions!  _Du weißt gar nichts!_  If you do not want to help us, you talk to your precious Stacy about it!” Another chain of coughing rattled through him, breaking up his words, but they were no less fierce. “We do not need you. We— _hh_ —we only need S-Stacy and her car.”

“Schneep,” Chase muttered, warningly tugging on his arm, but he didn’t have the time to say anything to smooth over the situation before Stacy arrived from the kitchen, keys in hand.

“Alright, let’s go,” she urged, brushing her free fingers over Tom’s arm. “Honey, help them to the car?”

“…Yeah,” Tom acquiesced tightly, gripping Chase’s arm and helping him to his feet. Schneep refused the hand he was offered, barely even looking up as he wound an arm around Chase and they were guided to the van.

It was amazing how something so mundane could stirred as much emotion in Chase as it did, but when they slipped into the backseats he was forced to swallow hard as his eyes panned over the crumbs, wrappers and toys scattered across the car mats.

These seats…His babies sat in these seats every day.

Bending gradually down, wincing deeply as the change in pressure spiked in his head, he snatched up one of the action figures. It was a red and silver robot, well worn—well loved.

_“Hey, buddy, you wanna go to the toy aisle?” he questioned hopefully, relishing in the feeling of Connor’s small, warm fingers wrapped up in his own. The answer he received wasn’t the eager yes he’d expected, however. “Connor?”_

_“Yeah…” the little boy admitted, glancing up at him uncertainly. “But…d-do we have enough money, Daddy?”_

_Something in Chase’s stomach turned at the question and he stilled, coming to a stop and shifting to kneel in front of him. “What d’you mean by that?”_

_“Well…” Fidgeting, tugging restlessly on the hem of his shirt, Connor lowered his head, staring down at Chase’s knees and mumbling. “S’just that Mama says not to get toys when we’re with you cos you don’t have enough money and it’ll make you feel bad later.”_

_Chase dearly hoped that Connor didn’t notice the hot flush coming into his cheeks at these words. Tightening his hands on his boy’s shoulders, he forced a light smile. “Is that so? Your mom and I need to talk about that, but y’know what? I’ve been doing really well lately, no matter what she thinks! I’ve got a little surprise money that I’ve been saving just for you, and you can pick any toy you want.”_

_That finally drew the light into Connor’s eyes that Chase had longed for. “A robot?” he exclaimed. “Can I get a robot?!”_

_“Absolutely! Let’s get you the coolest robot!”_

Schneep’s calloused fingers brushing his head brought him out of his trance-like stare with a painfully sharp flinch. The doctor didn’t embarrass him by mentioning it, merely pursing his lips as he leaned in and thumbed over stray trickles of blood sliding down his temple. Just that small gesture eased the pain’s razor edge and Chase instinctively leaned into it, searching for more relief, but after a few softer strokes Schneep stilled, exhaling huskily.

“Chase…Is my fault we are in this mess,” he murmured under the noise of the AC. “I should have seen signs in Marvin. I should’ve…”

“We both should’ve. If I hadn’t fallen asleep on the job, he wouldn’t’ve gotten the jump on me.” Fidgeting, the vlogger decided to take his chances and ask. “D’you think it was getting Anti out of Jameson’s head that opened Marv up to him?”

“Not all the way. Somewhat,” Schneep allowed, brows creasing. “But this…this new magic he ‘found’ somewhere, I think it was the start. He chose the corruption. He let it in. That one opening was enough for Anti to get through and turn him on us, Chase. And now we all pay for it, just because he wanted  _new magic_.”

“No, no, hey, you can’t blame him for Anti taking him. He wasn’t getting new magic for the kicks. He just wanted to help Jem, bring Jackieboy back,” Chase protested, stomach churning tightly at the thought of the gleeful malice in his friend’s face. “It’s—it was a mistake, doc, a really bad mistake! Marv would never put us in that kind of danger on purpose. Somewhere in there he’s fighting Anti, I know it. Maybe now that Jack’s keeping Anti distracted on the outside, Marvin’ll be able to get some leverage on the inside!”

“Jack…” Schneep repeated softly, staring up at the car ceiling. Tufts blue eyes grew misty. “How could Jack be awake, Chase? He has not been awake for more than a year. There’s been no change, no improvement—if anything, he’s gotten worse and worse.”

“Okay, so I don’t know how he did it, but I  _saw_  him!” Chase insisted, latching onto his arm to keep his attention. “He fought to help us escape. We wouldn’t have without him!” When Schneep said nothing, Chase shook his head in dismay, jostling him a little to recapture his eyes. “Why don’t you want to believe me? Why aren’t you happy?”

“Because if he’s awake, Chase, he’s there with  _Anti_. The monster is armed with Marvin’s magic and none of the others are able to help him. And I—I am not there for him. Again. He needs me and I’m taken away from him.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be doing him much good if you  _were_  still back there,” Chase pointed out, schooling his voice so as not to sound too demeaning. “You’d still be conked out at the bottom of your magic bubble. Now you’re awake, he’s awake, and we’ll figure out a way to get back to him. He’s fightin’ for us.”

“And what if he loses? Wh-What if Anti…?” Schneep coughed once more, though it didn’t sound the same as the others.

Chase didn’t have a chance to address his implied question as one cough led to another and another and another. Hugging his arms around his sides, he rocked forward, fruitlessly trying to catch his breath. He was going to give himself whiplash at this rate, Chase mused, wincing in sympathy as he patted his back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, buddy. Just get it all out,” he soothed, worriedly glancing up to meet Stacy’s gaze in the rearview mirror.  _Get us there soon_ , his eyes said to hers.

By the time the fierce hacking eased, he was practically folded in half over his knees, whimpering exhaustedly. Gripping his shoulder, Chase murmured other meaningless assurances as he helped him sit back up.

“Easy does it, here we go…” Reaching up past his head, he hurriedly flicked the air vent away from his friend’s face. Doctors said that keeping the air still was a way to help with a cough, right? “Try not to talk for a bit,” he continued as he turned his eyes to the pockets sewn into the backs of the front seats. “Stacy, are there—I don’t know, some mints or cough drops or something in here? Something to help his throat?”

“Oh, here,” Tom spoke up first, shifting forward in his seat to rifle through the glove box for a few moments before leaning back and offering a pack of gum. “Gotta keep some of these in here for Bri; she’s always asking for some.”

Chase was promptly forced to bite the inside of his cheek against a surprisingly sharp retort that flew to his throat.  _Oh, is she? Is that something she “always does”? She never does that with me. I think I’d know her better than you do_. The fresh bitterness on his tongue created a new lance of pain in his forehead and he took a steadying breath to help him swim beyond the dizziness as Tom stretched a little farther, shaking the pack expectantly.

“Well? You want it?”

 _It’s just gum_.

Without a word he snatched it from him, taking note of the brand as he tore it open. “Here, Schneep, this’ll help.” As soon as he looked up to hand it to him, however, he froze, flinching back at the pallor that had come over his face. “Whoa—Schneep, bro, you okay?” He was so white he looked almost gray, his skin tight over the hollow of his cheekbones.

“I don’t think I feel well,” he slurred, glassy eyes flickering closed as he drooped back against the seat. “ _Wo bin ich hier?_ ” One last weak cough forced its way out of him, loose and wet, and Chase’s heart jackhammered as strings of thick, dark fluid flew from his mouth, spattering the front of his shirt.

“What the—?! Schneep!” Chase gasped as his head lolled sideways and more of the bloodlike substance slithered down his chin in sticky rivulets. “Schneep! Henrik?!” As soon as the older Ego started to shake, Chase cursed in helpless terror, lunging to steady him as he yelped, “Stacy!”

“What’s happening, what’s happening?!” she burst out, swerving violently between lanes as she glanced over her shoulder in alarm. “What do I do? Should I pull over?!”

“ _Floor it!_ ”


End file.
